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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23462749">Harder We Fall</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pikkulef/pseuds/Pikkulef'>Pikkulef</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Daredevil Post S3 Collection [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Daredevil (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Established Relationship, Gen, Implied Sexual Content, Implied/Referenced Abuse, Post-Season/Series 03, Sex Trafficking, implied rape</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-01 15:54:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,468</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23462749</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pikkulef/pseuds/Pikkulef</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Daredevil, or rather now The Man in the Mask returned, accidentally stumbles on a sex trafficking ring; Detective Mahoney warns him, but they react too fast and strong for him, and Matt has to deal with the results and his conscience.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Brett Mahoney &amp; Matt Murdock, Franklin "Foggy" Nelson &amp; Karen Page, Matt Murdock/Karen Page</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Daredevil Post S3 Collection [9]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1241843</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>40</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Many thanks to Quietshade and CeterisParibus for their help and beta-reading on this chapter !! </p><p>(PS : title doesn't come from a song but from a saying in my native language)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>It had been a disaster. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A disaster. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matt was running over rooftops, carrying the frail body in his arms, bullets buzzing past his ears, the mob down on the streets yelling at each other to get him, trying to climb to reach him by all means, cursing him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>The girl he was holding was half conscious, grasping at his shoulders and neck like there was no tomorrow, stiff in his arms. She wasn’t that heavy, quite too light in fact, but he had to run fast and dodge bullets. He had a hard time keeping his breath. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He was trying to stay focused. But all that he had just witnessed collided and swirled in his mind and he was not sure he would be able to swipe that off his brain anytime soon. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Focus, Matt !! </span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now was not the time. But the girl bore all the traces and scents to remind him of all this, and it was hard not to get distracted by the anger and disgust it evoked in him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That was why he had to focus. Save the girl. Get her somewhere safe. Church? Precinct?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The closest was the precinct. Brett. He needed Brett. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The bullets grew scarce, the yelling faded, as he got closer to streets with more traffic, more people, more chances to be seen and reported to cops. It seemed he had dodged all the bullets. He didn’t have time to sit and check. He ran on, his breathing ragged, his heart pounding to his ears, the girl feeling heavier with each step - her heart pounding, too, incredibly fast. He could both hear it and feel it through his chest, and it worried him, it was too fast. But he went on. He had to carry on. He had to find somewhere safe for her, and go back. There were more he ought to save. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A block away from the precinct, he stopped. He scanned the area and found a small sheltered nook between a lift machinery and an air vent. He kneeled down there, trying to lay the girl on the ground next to him. She was still off, half unconscious, panting and occasionally gasping for air. She was grasping onto his shoulders and shirt so hard, he had to pry her fingers one by one away from him, to lay her down against the wall, murmuring in a low voice. He didn’t even know if the girl could hear him in her state, or understand him. But he tried to be reassuring. He took one of his gloves off, his hand hovering over her hair. After all she had lived through, he was afraid to touch her that way, to caress her. To revive whatever recent memories she must have. He put the glove back on his hand without touching her. Pondered taking off his mask, but decided against it. She was too old. She would recognize him, and she would be listened to. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Shh. You’re okay, girl. You’re okay. That’s it. You’re safe.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kept with the low voice, and motioned to take his burner phone from his pocket. The girl froze. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“No. It’s my phone. Calling a friend.” He took the phone out of his pocket as the girl frantically tried to escape him, cornered as she was against this small piece of wall between the lift and the vent. “See?” He held the phone in her direction. “Calling for help. Shh.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brett was the fourth contact in his phone. He’d managed to snatch his professional number from him after Fisk’s descent. Brett picked up after the second ring. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Please tell me you’re not behind those shootings near the docks.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Brett, too, had registered his number, it seemed. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“I need help, Detective. I got a casualty here. She’s in shock. Doesn’t seem injured -” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Where ?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matt gave the location and cut the conversation. The girl seemed to have to calm down. So she must understand when he talked. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He didn’t know what to do. He just stood there, crouched in front of her, his hands on his knees. How old could she be ? She seemed so frail and small. Her heart sounded like a flock of butterflies, weak and frantic. Not unlike Karen’s heart that first time they’d met. Like a cornered, panicked, helpless animal. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Under all the smells he didn’t want to register, the girl was dirty, and her sweat, under the obvious new layer of fear, only read of a string of terrors, old fears, panics, and malnutrition. Only misery was oozing from her pores. It was hard for Matt to breathe ; how could it be for her? And he only had a glimpse of what her life had been like until now… </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He kept talking to her, always the same words, always the same tone, happy that the mask was hiding most of his face, because the more he thought about it all, the hardest it was to stay calm. He didn’t really care about what he was saying as long as it was in a soothing voice. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A police car drew close, and stopped in the street. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Brett was there in a couple of minutes, panting after his rush up the stairs. </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Holy shit, man ! It </span>
  <em>
    <span>was</span>
  </em>
  <span> you !” </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Matt frowned under his mask. How did Brett come to that conclusion so easily ? </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It was me who did what?” </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“The shooting. You brawled with the Scorpions!” Brett kneeled down next to the girl, but not too close, and she still recoiled against the wall, but not as violently as she had with Matt. Brett had a few words of comfort for her, then turned back to Matt. “Shit, shit shit, man. Why? And… How the hell did you find them?” </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“The what ? Listen, Detective, I don’t know what -” </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Brett’s head tilted, his hands darting up to his sides. He was… - Matt had to concentrate more than usual to get this information - he was frowning. His heart rate had spiked again, after calming when he arrived after climbing up the stairs. Why so? </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“You know the Scorpions, dude. Us cops’re talking about them all the time, we’re onto them, we’re looking for them, you must have heard us talk about it on your police radio set up or whatever it is you’re using to follow us. Even if you didn’t know you were raiding them, there’s no way you didn’t notice </span>
  <em>
    <span>that</span>
  </em>
  <span>!” </span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>Brett was pointing to the girl. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There was something he didn’t notice in the girl. On the girl. Panic rose in Matt’s brain. What did he miss? How could he know? He never missed </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything</span>
  </em>
  <span>. He couldn’t - </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matt froze, and Brett sighed, shook his head and made a tutting sound with his mouth. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matt noticed the corner of Brett’s mouth moving, akin to a smile - but it was a brief, mirthless rictus. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Before Matt could react, Brett and changed subject. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Anyway. You’re going to tell me where you found her, and we’ll meet there. We’ll see what we can do. But if you raided them... “</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“What?” Matt’s tension was audible in his voice. He hated that. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“They’re probably already on the run. Better go fast, if we want to try and save more. Cause they were more, right?”</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Y-Yeah.” Matt stuttered. He was slowly realizing the significance of these words. He tried to gain back his composure, and the localisation of where he’d found the girl to Brett. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Go. I’ll take care of her and send a few cars.” Brett took out his phone and Matt turned to leave as fast as he could, but Brett called him back, phone in hand.</span>
  <span><br/>
</span>
  <span>“Hey! Don’t be too optimistic. I’m not sure there’ll be anything left to save when you get back, you know. Happened to us before. You saved one. That’s more than we managed last time.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matt was already two buildings away when Brett finished his sentence, but it haunted him all the way back to the docks. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I know what I was going to write in this chapter, but I kinda lost control of Matt and of what I wanted to show or not.<br/>So, proceed with caution. I'd say it's pretty crude. I don't know. </p><p>This chapter has not been beta-read or whatever is the term, so please if you see mistakes let me know !</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>The smell of smoke reached him before the smoke itself did, and before he could register where it came from. </p><p>When he did, it was already too late. </p><p>He couldn’t help but let out a desperate groan as he rushed, faster and faster, almost flying over the roofs and alleys, unable to notice they were getting darker and darker as he closed the distance between the heart of Hell’s Kitchen and the docks. </p><p>The seemingly abandoned warehouse he had left behind with the young woman in his arms was on fire. The blast of the blaze was covering most of the sounds, as he got closer, leaving only a murmur of city noises. Sirens in the distance, closing in, cops and firemen, too late to save anything. Or anyone.</p><p>He was the first on site. </p><p> </p><p>His hands curled in rage tight fists, Matt stiffly approached the fire, enough to feel the heat dry the uncovered skin of his face. He needed to know. Was there anyone, anything left alive in this place? </p><p>He tried to push his anger and guilt away from his mind, to let in the tiniest sound, the smallest hint of a smell. A roof joist broke and fell inside the warehouse, causing a scorching gust of wind and cinders, and a momentarily overwhelming of his hearing. He winced, but as the spray of metal pieces and ash fell down again, he heard a scream. Followed by an angry yell. </p><p>He rushed in the direction of that sound, running along the side of the warehouse, to a part where the building was still relatively sound, but not for long. A man was walking out of a small door, dragging a woman by the arm. Matt didn’t try to hide - there was nowhere to hide on this side of the warehouse - and walked on the man, his teeth bared, his fists ready. </p><p> </p><p>“You let me go, or she dies.”<br/>
<br/>
Matt stopped in his tracks, waiting. Snarling. His fingers were tingling with yearning, yearning to crash into the man’s face. </p><p>But he had to save the woman first, and the man had a gun in the hand that wasn’t holding her. A gun pointed on her. </p><p>She was older than the one he’d just saved. Older, taller, heavier - that made him retrospectively consider the other girl as even younger than he thought… almost a teenager…  </p><p>
  <em> Focus, Matt.  </em>
</p><p>She was also injured. She was barely standing next to the man, her heart beating too fast. She smelled of burnt flesh.  </p><p>They were roughly fifty feet away from him, unmoving. </p><p>He studied the man while he slowly, imperceptibly, moved his right hand towards his clubs. </p><p>He was sweating, from the fire or from stress, probably both. There was fear and anger and alcohol in his sweat; he was heavy, not exactly muscular, middle aged, his breath short. Matt would easily beat him. He would be slow. </p><p>Matt’s fingers could almost touch the club. Just a few seconds - </p><p> </p><p>It all happened too fast for him to do anything. </p><p> </p><p>A series of loud shots came from the burning warehouse, forgotten ammunition set off by the fire, and the woman, who probably had been waiting for a distraction, yanked her arm out of the man’s grasp, ready to run away from him. </p><p>Matt, his senses put off by the banging, and not fast enough, could only witness as the man, seemingly unfazed by the noise, immediately and coldly fired a round point blank into her temple. </p><p>He then turned the gun on Matt, but Matt wasn’t there anymore. </p><p> </p><p>He’d felt the bullet crash against the woman’s skull. Heard her heart spike in surprise and fear. Smelled the adrenaline surging ; mirroring his own. Her heart had not stopped yet - but it would soon - that Matt had darted to his right, towards the wall, avoiding the round that he knew was going to be for him. He jumped, sideways, finding support for a couple of steps on the wall itself, to finally fall down on the still shooting man, feet first, clubs at the ready. </p><p>The man was faster that Matt had expected. He stepped sideways, avoiding the Man in the Mask’s attack, but Matt managed to knock his wrist with his club. </p><p>Matt licked his lips at the sound of splitting branches that came up, and kicked the gun away with his boot. The man fell to his knees, nursing his shattered wrist. </p><p> </p><p>It didn’t look like he was going to put up much of a fight, now. </p><p> </p><p>He was his. He was his and God help him, he had not felt this much boiling rage in him since Fisk. </p><p> </p><p>The man’s sour sweat brought to his mind the sweat he’d smelled on the girl. Then the other smells. Too recognizable, and too pervading on her. The sweat of many men. Their saliva. Their semen. She couldn’t erase these men from her. </p><p>And he couldn’t erase this thought from his mind, just like he couldn’t erase the smell of fresh blood and burnt flesh from the body of the woman he should have saved, next to him.</p><p> </p><p>Feeling nauseous, but anger flowing in his body like lightning along bare cables, he stepped towards the man, caught him by the neck in a claw-like hand, and forced him to raise his head from his wound, almost choking him. </p><p>It was hard to unclench his teeth enough to speak, but Matt managed a muted growl. </p><p>“Where did you take the others?”<br/>
“You won’t get nothin’ from me, devil.” </p><p>Matt repeated, forcing himself to articulate. </p><p>“Where did you take the others?”<br/>
The man spat, his spit landing on Matt’s shoe.  </p><p>Matt bit his lips, then punched the man in the face, once, his other hand still holding him by the throat. It was hard to restrain his strength, to only lay his fist once on the man. Everything inside him screamed for more, and he knew the smallest thing could tip the vase and spill all the fury he was barely holding back.<br/>
“Where?” </p><p>The man smiled and spat again. </p><p>Just as Matt was going to land yet another restrained, calculated punch on the man’s face, the man managed to leap to his feet and throw his weight at Matt, destabilizing him for a split second. The man, taller and more broad, got a hold of Matt and started to shower him with blows, with his good arm, his feet, his knees. </p><p>But it only lasted the time for Matt to catch his breath. Catch this sour sweat again, bringing the girl’s experience to his mind again. </p><p> </p><p>The vase tipped. </p><p> </p><p>Matt caught the man’s neck, threw his boot in his stomach, then let his fist rain down on him, not restraining anything, not thinking, not registering the man’s yells and sudden supplications. </p><p>And he punched. </p><p>And punched. </p><p>And punched. </p><p>He licked his lips as the smell of new blood arose, grinned as cheekbones crushed under his fists. </p><p> </p><p>The crackling sound coincided with a loud clicking. Someone had cocked a gun near him. Very near.</p><p>And was now placing said gun close enough to his face, that Matt could feel the coldness of the metal. </p><p> </p><p>“One more punch, and I’ll be unmasking a corpse.” </p><p> </p><p>All the noises washed over Matt at once. Car engines. Cops running, yelling, speaking, breathing. Sirens. <em> Sirens </em>. So loud he was destabilized again. Matt stepped backward like a drunken man, his hand opened by itself, and the man limply crashed to the ground, inert. But the man was still alive. Matt slowly stood up, one ear on the gun next to his face. </p><p>The man was still alive. </p><p>It was as if Brett had read into his mind. </p><p>“We got an ambulance here.” There was heavy fatigue in his voice. And disgust. But Matt couldn’t tell if it was for him, or for the man. </p><p>Probably both. Like Matt was feeling right now.<br/>
Brett lowered his gun.</p><p><br/>
“Fuck off. You did enough. Now. Fuck. Off.” </p><p> </p><p>Matt stepped slowly away from the man lying on the ground, regaining his composure as well as his senses. He almost made a sign of understanding, of thanking Brett. But he just swallowed his acid spit, and disappeared into a nearby alley, avoiding the other cops. </p><p>One could have said that he was running away. But he couldn’t run away from himself.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I had not expected this chapter but I think it is needed. Little change of scenery, maybe? </p>
<p>It has not been beta read so please let me know if you spot mistakes!</p>
<p>I hope you enjoy it! :)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Karen woke up drowsy from the couch, to the sound of Matt’s alarm clock. </p>
<p>SEVEN. AM. SEVEN. AM. </p>
<p>Matt. Who wasn’t there. </p>
<p>She stretched, got up, and walked to the empty bedroom. The bedsheet were as they left them the previous morning. </p>
<p>She felt cold. </p>
<p>SEVEN. AM. SEVEN. AM. SE-</p>
<p>She turned the alarm off. </p>
<p>Seven am, and Matt had not returned. </p>
<p>Any thoughts of breakfast left her. An ice cold stone had settled in her stomach. She only made some coffee because she knew she wouldn’t be able to function if she didn’t. She tried to rationalize as the water heat up. He was safe, somewhere, there was a perfect explanation, she just didn’t know about it. It surely wasn’t the first time it happened to him. </p>
<p>But it was the first time it happened since she’d come to live with him. The first time he didn’t wake her up from the couch sometime before the sun rose, to take her gently to bed, where she waited for him to shower and return to her, tension slowly leaving his body as she cuddled against him. </p>
<p>She brewed her coffee, and she noticed only when she burnt her lips that she’d been biting them, drawing blood in places. The tears that suddenly blurred her vision didn’t come from the burn. She forced herself to push the panic away. Matt was okay. He was just… somewhere. </p>
<p>That didn’t help. </p>
<p>Her trembling hand almost spilled the coffee out of her mug when her phone rang. Once. A text. She leaped to the table where she’d left it, to see it was in fact a reminder for a voice message. Received at 5:45 am. From a hidden number. </p>
<p>She held her breath and played the message, a hand on her mouth. </p>
<p>“Karen.” Matt’s voice, a little croaky, came out from the speaker. Karen breathed. “I’m okay. I’m not hurt. I just need… Don’t go looking for me. Don’t call. I’ll be back. Soon.” </p>
<p>There was a pause. Relatively long, and Karen stayed suspended to her phone like a lifeline. </p>
<p>“I love you. Sorry.” Matt had hung up after that. </p>
<p>Karen’s phone fell on the table with a flat sound as she covered her mouth with both her hands. That didn’t stop her from crying. She cursed herself for not hearing the phone ringing that morning. Tears were flowing on her cheeks, she was hiccuping; he was okay. But he didn’t come back. He didn’t want to come back. </p>
<p>But Matt was okay. She could only believe him, right ? That was enough, right ? </p>
<p>She didn’t believe him. And it wasn’t enough. </p>
<p>He couldn’t be okay. Or else he would be here, in his flat, in his bed, he’d have slept a couple of hours before they’d gone to work together and met Foggy. That’s how he did, now, hurt or not. Once, in the roughly six months they’d been sharing his flat, he came back bleeding so much Karen had to call Sister Maggie so she could help stitching him up before he lost all his blood. But he always came back. They should be getting coffee for Foggy right now. </p>
<p>Foggy. </p>
<p>She waited anxiously while the phone ringed on his side. He picked up with a sleepy voice. </p>
<p>“Karen?” </p>
<p>“Foggy. Did you get news from Matt?” </p>
<p>“Shit.” All sleepiness disappeared from Foggy’s voice. “Is he hurt? How bad?” </p>
<p>“I… I don’t know.” She heard her voice waver, and took a deep breath. “He left a voice message on my phone. Why didn’t I wake up, why -” </p>
<p>“He did? Oh my God, Karen. He really does love you, you know. He never bothered with me. What did he say?” </p>
<p>“That he was not hurt. And that I - I shouldn’t go looking for him.” She realized she equally wanted to cry and yell. </p>
<p>He just couldn’t do that to her. They had discussed this. They had to be transparent with each other, or this wouldn’t work. </p>
<p>“Karen ?” </p>
<p>“Sorry, Foggy. I was -”</p>
<p>“I know. I was saying it’s already a big step from Matt to have left that message, you know. Remember -” </p>
<p>“I don’t want to remember, Foggy. We had a deal. He can’t -” </p>
<p>“You know that means he’s not okay, right? Maybe he’s not hurt, but maybe… he needs some time alone to process something. Do you know what he left for last night?</p>
<p>“I don’t. I didn’t ask and he didn’t tell. Sometimes he’s just… out, patrolling or whatever he calls that. Foggy, why ? Why can’t he have some time alone in here, in his own flat? It’s big enough that I can leave him alone in a room. I just… I’m afraid, Foggy. I can’t lose him again. I won’t -” </p>
<p>“You won’t lose him again. That voice message is a proof. Karen.” Karen started crying again, trying to hide it, but Foggy didn’t need Matt’s ears to get it. She tried to call down, to hold onto Foggy's voice.</p>
<p>“Karen. Calm down. Take your time to get your bearings and meet me at the office, alright ? I’m bringing the coffee. He left you a message. He said he was going to come back. You have to trust him. You said you were trusting each other now.”</p>
<p>“I can’t -” </p>
<p>“You can, and you will. Listen, I have a call waiting. I kinda have to take it, but I’ll call you back after that, alright? You take a shower and hold onto that message he left. It’s the proof, Karen.” </p>
<p>“Okay.” Karen tried to dry her tears, but she knew they would start flowing again as soon as Foggy hung up.</p>
<p>“Good girl. Catch you in a sec.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Foggy didn’t have a call waiting. Karen didn’t wake him up ; he was drinking the coffee Marci had left brewing for him before going to work, when Karen called, perfectly brewed and ready when he got up, and with a small post it on the mug wishing a good morning to her Foggy Bear. </p>
<p>Foggy wasn’t panicking because Foggy’s significant other wasn’t missing after a night running on rooftops in pajamas. His mind was clear, and he was afraid for Matt, but he wasn’t panicking. He also had a better idea than Karen of what Matt’s reaction meant. </p>
<p>And he knew where he could be. </p>
<p>It took him a couple of minutes to find the right number on the internet, and a couple of rings before someone replied. </p>
<p>“Hello. Could I talk to Sister Maggie, please? I’m Foggy Nelson. It’s quite urgent. I’m not going to take much of her time, promise.”</p>
<p>“From the lawyers?” </p>
<p>“Yes. Please -”</p>
<p>“I’ll fetch her for you.” </p>
<p>Foggy waited again, tense. Maybe it wasn’t a good idea… He had never really talked to Sister Maggie. And he couldn’t really get what were her ties to Matt. But he knew she was in. And where could Matt go - </p>
<p>“Sister Maggie here.” </p>
<p>“Uh, hello, uh, Sister. I was wondering -” </p>
<p>“Yes.” </p>
<p>“Uh?” </p>
<p>“I’m answering your question. Yes. He’s... praying. I guess.” </p>
<p>Foggy stayed silent. </p>
<p>“Is that all?” </p>
<p>“Is… Is he okay?” </p>
<p>“He is not hurt.”</p>
<p>Good. But it didn’t really answer the question fully, did it? </p>
<p>“Thank you, Sister. Will you -” </p>
<p>“He probably already knows, don’t you think?” </p>
<p>Of course he did. </p>
<p>“Uh. Yes. Thank you - ” </p>
<p>Sister Maggie had hung up on Foggy before he could finish his sentence. </p>
<p>Well. Now he could call back and reassure Karen, right? Kind of. </p>
<p>Foggy finished his coffee and dressed up first, leaving her some time under the shower she was supposed to take, before he called her on his way to their office. </p>
<p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>New chapter ! <br/>This hasn't been beta so if you spot any mistakes please let me know ! <br/>Hope you like that one ^^</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Foggy had kept Karen busy all day. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She knew where Matt was, and it was all Foggy could do to stop her from running to the church. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You can’t do that,” he’d told her earlier. Karen had turned and started walking, almost running in the street, when Foggy had told her where Matt was, and he had to catch her. He held her firmly but kindly in place with his hands on both her arms, looking her straight in the eye, trying not to register the tears falling on her cheeks. “You know it’s better if you wait. You know where he is, and it’s safe there. He’ll come back. When he’s ready.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“But me. I’m not ready to wait.</span>
  <em>
    <span> I</span>
  </em>
  <span> need him </span>
  <em>
    <span>now</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I know. And I’m sorry. But really... “ He shook his head and cursed under his breath. What a fool he’d been to believe he’d be rid of this type of things once they’d finally started dating again ! </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“It’s better for both of you. You’ll calm down after a while, and he’ll have a clearer brain. Remember how he was, when…” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I don’t want to remember.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“You better do. Karen, I’m sorry, but you know Matt. Leave him be. He always comes back, right ? However bloody he is when he does. Even when a building fell on him, he came back to us eventually. To you. It’s just better not to try and rush him. Leave him some time.” Foggy had kept one hand on Karen’s arm and guided, or maybe dragged her to the firm, where fresh coffee and a big amount of work was waiting for them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Distraction had worked, somehow. Of course Karen’s mind was constantly halfway between the office and the church, but she tried her best to listen to Foggy and to do her job, however miserable she felt. No matter how much her brain tried to show her a battered and bruised Matt all alone in a dingy church basement. Foggy kept her focused, as best he could, by asking her questions, reviewing cases with her as he would have with Matt, asking her thoughts on a plea he was writing. He didn’t leave her side for more than a few minutes. As predicted by him, she felt better by noon, and relatively calm by the end of the day. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
    <br/>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>But now was time to go home. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t very late when Karen feverishly took her bag and light jacket and got up, intending to leave, but Foggy stopped her. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Hey-hey-hey. Where are you going?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Karen didn’t stop and reached the door, but answered slowly, knowing there was probably a trap there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“... home?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh hell no. Not yet. It’s not even that late. I’m not leaving you alone in your flat until Mr Asshole comes back. I texted Marci, we’re going out.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Karen frowned and shook her head.  It was nice from Foggy, and she had probably ruined his work day, forcing him to be next to her all the time and keeping her focused. But it just wouldn’t work. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Foggy... Marci doesn’t even know about Matt...” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“We’ll tell her had to leave for a case. I covered for him a thousand times, I can do it again.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Karen couldn’t help the coldness that suddenly took her voice. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I know that, Foggy.”  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“That’s not what I -” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“It’s okay.” Karen turned, and hugged him, surprising both Foggy and herself. “I’ll have to put on a brave face and I can’t. And I’ll have to answer her questions about Matt, and I definitely can’t. I love Marci, I do, you know that, but I… it’s better if I go home. Tell her I felt sick or something. To be honest, it’s not that far from the truth.” Karen’s voice was already trembling again. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Foggy held her tightly for a few seconds, then let her go. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“Let me know. Send me a text. Whenever. Alright ? I’m here for you. Both of us, with Marcy.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Karen nodded, biting her lips. She turned away from Foggy to hide her tears and wished him a nice evening as she walked out. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>All the calm she had carefully built during the day left her gradually, with each step that brought her closer to home. She was practically shaking when she reached the right floor, and let her keys fall from her hands when she went to open the door. She swore under her breath, picked them up, then forced herself to take a dozen of deep breaths before opening. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The flat was dark, and she hesitated, her hand hovering over the switch. Now, she couldn’t see ; he could be there, as much as he could not. If she switched the lights on, she would know. She swallowed, and with yet another deep breath, she pulled the switch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matt was there. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>He was sitting on the floor, against the wall, near the stairs he’d climbed down, minutes, maybe hours before. Karen slammed the door shut and almost ran to him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had an expression on his face Karen had never witnessed. Never as raw, never as deep. Disgust and furious anger mingled there, in his tightly shut jaw, in his eyes open wide on nothing. Very wide. The hands on his knees, gloves removed, were bloody and closed into fists so tightly his knuckles were white. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Matt?” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>He jumped a little, turning his head towards her, his eyes darting from one side to the other, as if looking for her in his own darkness. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’d startled him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>It was a first. Matt was virtually unable to be startled - it was impossible to walk on him without him knowing you were there from a block away or something. Yet there she was, after entering the apartment without trying to be silent, letting her keys fall in front of the door, throwing them on the coffee table, having rushed towards him with her heels on the wooden floors… it was only when she’d talked to him that he’d noticed she was there. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She crouched in front of him. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Matt, you’re okay?” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Matt blinked. Many times. </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>When his voice finally rang, it was hoarse, as if it didn’t want to come out of his mouth. And suffered no answer. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“I’m fine.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>Karen sighed, her breath shaking. This automatic, dismissing response had the power to make her furious. It was even worse today ; after a full day of worrying, after the voice message, after waking up in a en empty flat. Of course he wasn’t okay. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Going back to their  routine seemed the only thing she could do. She walked to the kitchen, finding her fear was morphing into red hot anger, then started to fill the kettle for her usual late night herbal tea, staring at Matt out of the corner of her eye.  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A cut on the lip. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Bloody knuckles. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No visible bruise. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>No blood dampening his black shirt. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>If it was physical, it was either internal (bad!) or superficial enough (better!). She chose to bet on the superficial. He’d been the whole day at the church. His face wasn’t the face he made when he was badly hurt, anyway. She knew that face well, sadly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She took her time to prepare the tea, spying on him. He’d let his head fall, but she could see his jaw tense spasmodically, thanks to the shadows cast by the light from the ceiling. His hands were now tearing at his mask. She hoped he wasn’t damaging it. She grew more concerned by the second. This wasn’t a normal Matt behavior. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matt would usually warn her when her tea was ready, before the kettle started whistling - it was both a kind gesture and one that allowed him to avoid dealing with the high pitched sound. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The kettle whistled, loudly. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>Matt immediately yelled, hands on his ears. “STOP! THIS !” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>It was Karen’s turn to be startled. Matt yelled so very rarely, she almost let the kettle fall as she hurried to take it off the fire. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Matt had retreated into the bedroom when she looked up. She didn’t know what to do, but she wasn’t going to leave him alone through this. She pondered bringing him some hot tea, and decided against ; she’ll offer it if he let her come in. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>She took off her heels, then padded towards the bedroom door. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Matt. Let me in?”</span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“I need a shower, first.” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“What, to let me in?” </span>
  <span>
    <br/>
  </span>
  <span>“To… to let you come close. I’m… I feel… I didn't take one since last night. Sorry for yelling. I just need. A shower.” </span>
</p><p>
  <span>"Uh. Okay. Call me if you need anything," Karen let out as she walked away from the bedroom door, a little put off. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn't reply. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was starting to get late now, and her body screamed at her to get some sleep, but she couldn't. Matt was back, yet she’d rarely felt as far away. Karen sat on the couch and waited. </span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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